Murder Gone A-Rye (A Baker's Treat Mystery) (22 page)

“T
he puppy is going to be all right,” the vet said as he came out to the waiting room. “He’s sleeping. Do you want to go see him?”

“Yes!”

“Kip.” Tasha’s tone brooked no disobedience.

“Yes, please,” Kip said. His face showed his worry and exhaustion, but now his eyes held hope.

“Come with me,” the vet tech said and put out her hand. “My name is Shelly.”

“I’m Kip.” He took her hand. “Is Aubrey a hero?”

She glanced at us. “Yes,” she said with a definitive nod. “He is.”

“I knew he would be.” They disappeared into the back room.

“Clinical observation tells me it was most likely cyanide poisoning,” Peter said. “I’ve sent samples to the county lab for testing, but from the thick smell I’m certain the cookies were heavily laced with it.”

“Where would someone get cyanide in the first place?” Rosa asked as she stood next to Tasha.

“It’s common in insecticides.”

“So someone baked cyanide in chocolate chip cookies and gave them to us?” Tasha said. “That’s attempted murder, isn’t it?” We all looked to Calvin, who had come back over the minute Tasha called.

“There’s a strong case for it, yes,” Calvin said.

“Why else put it in a human cookie?” I said.

“Do you know who did it?” Peter asked.

“The cookies were delivered by Harold Everett. He’s down at the station now, but his father has hired a lawyer,” Calvin said.

“Which means we have to wait before we have any idea,” Grandma Ruth said. Even in two casts and a wheelchair she looked madder than a wet hen.

“What about Aubrey?” Tasha said, concern on her face. “Will the puppy live?”

“Yes, I wasn’t lying for the boy’s sake,” Peter said. “Toni did the right thing bringing him in right away. With the cookie and the sample of vomit Rosa brought, we were able to determine an immediate cause. We put him on dialysis to get it out of his blood and we also got any remaining cookie out of his digestive system. His blood work shows that his liver and kidneys are holding up. We’ll have to keep him a few days until he fully recovers.”

“Be prepared to have a little boy with you until he does,” Tasha said with a deep sigh.

Peter lifted a corner of his mouth. “Not a problem. You’d be surprised how many people stay for their pets. If it’s all right with you, we can put up a cot next to the puppy’s crate.”

“Kip has Asperger’s. . . .”

“It’s okay,” the vet said, his brown eyes calm. “My son has special needs. I know what to do. If it will make you feel better, you can stay.”

“I have to work, but yes, I’d like to be here when Kip is here.”

“With any luck, we’ll have the pup out of here by Monday.” He winked. “In time for life to return to normal.”

“How much is this all going to cost?” Tasha said weakly.

“Don’t worry about that,” Peter said. “I’m sending the bill to Hutch Everett. It’s the least he could do, even if it was only supposed to be a prank.”

“Not a funny prank.” Calvin’s eyes were flat and seriously coplike.

“I’m going to write a piece on the dangers of punking,” Grandma said, her blue eyes narrowed. “If it’s more than punking, I’m going to dig around in that kid’s life until the entire world knows everything he’s ever done and will ever do.”

“Come on, Ruth, you’ve had a long day.” Bill undid the brake on her wheelchair. “Let’s go home.”

Aunt Phyllis shook her head. “Someone needs to take an old-fashioned belt to that kid,” she muttered.

“Aunt Phyllis, I thought you were into peace, not war,” Rosa said as she walked out with Phyllis.

“Perhaps there were some things my generation got wrong.”

Tasha and Calvin and I were left in the bright light of the vet’s waiting room.

“What a day.” I dropped my chin into my hands. The bright plastic seats were easy to clean but far from comfortable.

“Those cookies couldn’t have been meant for you,” Calvin said as he sat down beside Tasha and took her hand. “Everyone knows you don’t eat wheat.”

I looked over at him. “The kid handed them to me. He said they were part of my prize.”

“Do you think he didn’t realize you couldn’t eat them?” Tasha asked. She rested her head against Calvin’s shoulder. He put his arm around her. It warmed my heart to see that my family’s antics hadn’t put him off of dating Tasha.

“It could be he was so caught up in his ‘joke’”—I used finger quotes—“that he didn’t think things through.”

“One thing’s for sure,” Calvin said. “Kip is right. Aubrey is a hero.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Aubrey will always be a hero in my eyes. I imagine my family will keep him in steak for the rest of his life.”

• • •

E
xhausted, I walked out of the house to my van. It was four in the morning, my usual time to go to work. I had managed to crawl into bed at midnight. Rosa and her family crashed at my house. Tasha, Kip, and most likely Calvin were all still at the vet’s office with Aubrey.

“Good morning. I brought you coffee. It’s not as good as yours, but it’s hot. Two creams, right?”

I started at the sound of Sam’s voice. The man had this nasty habit of sneaking up on me. Though I guess I can’t say it was nasty if he brought me coffee. “You scared me half to death!” I had my hand on my heart and I’d stopped in my tracks.

“That wasn’t my intention,” he said gently and pushed a large coffee cup at me. “My intention was to ensure that you didn’t get scared on your way to work.”

I took the coffee and stepped around my van. “You heard about Aubrey.” It was a statement, not a question.

“My mom is on the direct gossip pipeline.” He gave me a weak smile. “I figured if someone was trying to poison you, then perhaps you shouldn’t be going to work by yourself in the dark like this.”

I leaned back against my van. The man was right. It had crossed my mind that those cookies were meant for me this time and that the entire town knew when I went to work. It wouldn’t be that hard to jump out at me when I was this tired. Sam had proven that himself. I sipped the coffee. It wasn’t half bad. Neither was the man who brought it. He crowded me and my heart rate sped up—but not because I was scared.

He wore his cowboy hat low. Today he wore a suit coat and a blue dress shirt under it. His classic jeans were gone. In their place were dress slacks—but he still wore his boots. It made my tired mind wonder what he looked like with just the hat and boots.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly, as if he’d picked up my thought waves and liked their direction.

I straightened. “Yes, thanks for the coffee and the company.”

“You must be tired.”

“Why?” I opened the van door and put my purse and coffee inside.

“Because you thanked me for being here. Usually you’re all bristly when I try to be a gentleman.”

“Maybe it’s because I carried a dying puppy in my arms yesterday.” I paused. “All I could think of was what if it had been Emma or any of the kids.”

“Don’t go there,” he said gently and pulled me into his broad, warm chest. “It didn’t happen, and going there will only hurt you.”

I let myself find comfort in his solid warmth for a couple of heartbeats. Then I backed off, threw him a small smile, and climbed up in my driver’ seat. “I’ll take the usual route.”

“Good.” He turned toward his pickup.

“Sam—”

“Yeah?” He paused and looked at me.

“Did you hear anything on why he did it?”

“Nothing yet.”

“Okay. I didn’t think so.” I closed my van door and started it up. It crossed my mind then that maybe we were looking too hard for Lois’s killer. Maybe he was right under our noses.

Even if he was, it didn’t explain why. Or who killed Champ Rogers.

I
n typical small-town manner, bad news brought people into town. Thank goodness they tended to gather, and the bakery was the best gathering place at this time in the morning. It was six
A
.
M
.
The coffee was hot and plentiful. I kept the baked goods simple, figuring correctly that most everyone had had their fill of rich food the day before.

My biggest seller for the morning was my bacon breakfast muffin. It was less sweet than a fruit muffin and yet the hint of maple with the bacon and corn bread structure gave it the taste of a sit-down farmer’s breakfast. The next was my potato fritter with apple and ham.

“I’m headed out, Toni,” Sam said as I refilled the coffee carafes. “Is someone going to see you home?”

“I’ll get Rich to see me home,” I said, knowing he’d balk if I didn’t name names. “Thank you for all your time today.”

He lifted one corner of his sexy mouth. “You’re most welcome. Call me. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.” It made my heart do a little flip. The idea that there were two men I could count on. That idea had followed me my whole life. Watching my Dad be there for my mom, helping her without being asked. He seemed to always understand when she came home from the store that she needed help with groceries. He knew she shouldn’t be carrying something heavy. When she asked for the lightbulbs around the house to be checked and changed, she meant to check them right then. As an adult I realized he did it out of respect and love.

It was something I’d assumed Eric would do, but my ex had disappointed me at every turn. “Take me as I am,” he’d said. “Or leave.”

Eventually I’d left, but not until he’d flaunted his cheating in my face. When I made a commitment I made a commitment. It was why I needed to take time before I dated. To remind me how easy it was for me to believe the best in a man. How strongly I commit to a relationship after a handful of dates. To remember that, for me, it was never just about a good time.

“Heard about the boy’s pup,” Jack Rickman said. “I hope they throw the book at the Everett boy. It wasn’t right.”

“Thanks, Jack. I’ll tell Kip how you feel. It helps.”

“I’m going to talk to the mayor about getting some kind of hero award for that pup,” Jack said. “As far as I’m concerned, he saved lives.”

I leaned on the glass counter. “I agree. How was your Thanksgiving?”

“Good. I spent it out at the Hogginboom place with Sarah. Lots of good food and good company.” He patted his stomach.

“Can I get you your usual?”

“Thanks. And Sarah sends her thoughts your way.”

I wrapped up the bear claws and put in a couple of the potato fritters. “On the house.”

“Man, you gals are going to fatten me up past reason,” he muttered and paid for his breakfast.

“It’s winter,” I said. “You have to have something to fight the cold.”

The morning went that way. My regulars came in with words about the Everett boy and then went home to their families or back to work. Until ten
A.M.
, when the door bells rang and I came out of the kitchen to find Hutch Everett and Harold standing in the middle of the bakery.

“Can I help you?”

“I’d help them out the door,” Meghan said from the doorway.

“Everyone who comes in is a customer,” I reminded her gently. “We don’t discriminate.”

“We came in to apologize,” Hutch said, his voice deep and serious. He pushed his son forward. “Apologize.”

Harold Everett glanced at me. Again I saw something that made my skin crawl, and then it was gone, leaving only a fourteen-year-old boy in its wake. “I’m sorry about your dog.”

“Harold will be paying the entire vet bill and any further bills that come up later due to this . . . prank.”

“He’s darn lucky one of the kids didn’t eat those cookies,” I said. “The vet told me they were deadly.”

“Yes, Harold will be in counseling until he turns eighteen. We’ve also agreed to serious community service hours for the next two years. He’ll be on probation, and there will be no further incidents.”

“I would hope so,” Meghan said behind me, her hands on her hips and her chin high.

“Poison is not funny,” I said to Harold. “What made you think it was?”

He kept his gaze on the floor and shrugged. “It was stupid.”

“It was more than stupid. It could have been deadly,” I said.

“Again, we apologize,” Hutch said, looking down his nose at me as if his explanation of punishment was enough. “Should you so desire, we’ll get you another dog.”

“Another dog! You think that’s going to make up for what he did?” Meghan stepped forward, and I put my hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“There’s no need for another dog. Aubrey is the only dog we need.”

“Then we won’t trouble you further. Good day, Ms. Holmes.” Hutch turned, and Harold sneered at me before his father pulled him along. It was then that I noticed the boy’s piercings. Like Meghan, he had piercings in his eyebrows and in his upper lip. His studs were bigger than hers, more in-your-face. They looked like spikes. All except one. One was a simple, round dog bone.

I waited for them to leave, then I turned to Meghan. “Is it common to wear spikes and a dog bone piercing?”

She shrugged. “The dog bones are usually for new piercings. They are pretty standard. I don’t know about the spikes. Not too many people have them.”

A thought crossed my mind. I pulled off my apron and handed it to her. “Hold down the fort for a bit.”

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be long.” I headed out the front door.

The crime-scene tape was long gone. I studied Homer Everett’s statue. “Was it you?” I asked. “Did you kill your best friend and raise his son out of remorse?”

He didn’t answer, of course. I didn’t expect him to. What I’d come back for was the shiny piece I’d seen in the leaves under the bushes. With the crime-scene tape gone I could search for it in the daylight.

I squatted down at the spot and peered under the bushes. The leaves and mulch were damp. Maybe it was silly to think that something I’d seen in the dark would still be there a week later—especially since the crime-scene guys had canvassed the area. I picked up a stick, then used it to dig around, turning over leaf after leaf.

Was it stupid to squat there in the square and dig under the bushes for a glint? Probably. Was I stubborn enough to keep going? Yup.

Finally, after what felt like two hours, and after two people stopping and asking if I was okay, I found it: a spike of shiny metal as long as the tip of my little finger. I pulled it out and looked at it, pretty sure it matched the ones Harold Everett wore.

I stood, not sure what it meant. Except that Grandma Ruth wasn’t the only person at the crime scene. I frowned. I suppose he could have lost it any time before or even after Lois died. The tiny piece of silver didn’t mean anything by itself. And worse, they could say that I planted the evidence.

What a waste of a good couple of hours. I shook my head at myself and curled the spike in my fist.

“You found it. I’d say that makes you smarter than your supposedly brilliant grandmother.”

Harold Everett stood behind me. That look in his eyes was back and downright feral. “Excuse me?” I slipped my hand in my pocket and hit the first button on my phone. I hoped and prayed it was the right button.

Harold held out his hand. “My spike.” He snapped his fingers as if I should hurry up.

That got my back up. How dare this teen speak to me like that? “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harold.”

“Oh, you do know,” he said as he stepped toward me, contempt on his face. “Don’t think I would fall for your little phone trick either. I read how you called the cops when that guy attacked you. I happen to have a phone of my own.” He pulled out his smartphone and waved it in the air. I noticed it was an expensive phone—one capable of taking excellent pictures and video.

“Wow, cool phone,” I said. “I bet it takes excellent pictures.”

“Better than your ancient phone,” he sneered.

“Really? Because I’ve got some good pictures with my phone.” I unlocked my phone and brought up a picture of Aubrey and Kip. “Cute, right?”

“It stinks. Mine is way better.”

“Really? I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it, lady.”

“Prove it,” I said with a jerk of my chin.

“I don’t have to prove squat.” He grew agitated.

“Fine.” I put my phone back in my pocket. “If you can’t prove it, then I say you’re lying.”

“I’m not lying.” He rolled his eyes. “Give me my spike.”

“Why’d you put the silicone on the statue?”

“It was a joke,” he sneered. “Too bad about the old lady, but hey, she should read. Now hand over my spike.”

“You know what would have been funny? If you had a hidden camera and greased the statue. Then you could film anyone who slipped on the silicone.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe it would have been funny. If someone had been stupid enough to fall for that old trick.”

“You like to video things, don’t you, Harold? I bet you have some really cool videos on your phone.” I raised up my phone and pointed the camera toward him and turned it on.

“Turn that off.” He reached toward my phone and I ducked.

“Silicone on the statue was a joke, right? Like putting cyanide in the cookies you gave me—how were you going to take pictures of that? Hidden camera?”

“Don’t be stupid.” He stood a foot from me. I could smell the classic junior high body spray he wore. “I’m done yapping. Give me my spike!”

“Fine.” I dug into my pocket. “I’ll give you the spike.” I took a step back and held out the spike in my palm. “You know, I really thought you were clever like your grandfather, but I guess you aren’t, are you?”

He took a step toward me and reached for his spike; I was quicker and pulled it away. “Poisoning those cookies wasn’t very smart,” I said. “If you were trying to hurt me, you really failed. Everyone knows I’m gluten-free. I’d never eat a wheat-flour cookie.”

“Do you really think I’d do something that stupid?” He raised a dark eyebrow.

That made me pause. Poison was usually a woman’s trick. “It was your mother, wasn’t it?”

“Wasn’t what?” he sneered.

“She gave you those cookies to bring to me. She told you they were poisoned so that you wouldn’t eat them. Did you go around the house and peer in the window to see where I put them? What did you think, that you could video the poisoning through my window?”

“You’re crazy, lady.”

“Do you have video of the poisoning on your phone?” Anger made my voice rise. “Were you laughing when that puppy got sick?”

“Give me my spike!”

Then it hit me. “You recorded it, didn’t you?” I pushed. “On your phone. You had a hidden camera on the statue to watch for prank victims. Only instead of someone sliding off the statue, you recorded your mother killing Lois.”

“I’m done screwing around. Give me my spike.”

“Lois was going to tell us where the gun was that killed Champ. Aimee couldn’t let that happen.”

“Spike!” His eyes sparked and his impatience boiled. He looked like a giant two-year-old who was not getting his way. I half expected him to threaten to hold his breath.

“Why’d she do it, Harold? Why did your mother kill Lois? Was it to keep your family secret?”

He lunged at me. “Give it to me now!”

I didn’t have two brothers for no reason. I’d learned early how to judge a boy’s breaking point, and I ducked and dodged. He stumbled and hit the ground.

“Lois was going to tell us where the gun was. She was going to reveal to everyone that your father wasn’t Homer Everett’s son, that you are not Homer’s grandson. Your mother couldn’t have that. She could sacrifice her own standing in society, but she refused to sacrifice yours,” I pressed as I waved the spike in the air.

He got up and charged me like a bull. Harold might be younger, but I was lighter. I dodged. This time he caught himself before he fell and reached out with a meaty fist. I saw stars.

He was on top of me. I raised my arms against his blows. Then as suddenly as it started it stopped. Harold was lifted off me.

Calvin had the oversized boy flat on the ground and cuffed him.

“Are you okay?” Sam reached down to help me up.

“I think so,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Sit.” Calvin pulled Harold up and pushed him into a sitting position, then said to me, “I saw the whole thing. If you don’t press charges, I will.”

“Your face.” Sam reached up and brushed my hair out of my eyes. “You’re going to have a shiner.”

I touched my eye. He was right. The shock had worn off, and pain blossomed. “Ouch.”

“What was this all about?” Calvin asked.

“She has my spike,” Harold said, pouting.

“Be quiet,” Calvin and Sam said at the same time.

“He recorded Lois’s murder,” I said through the pain. “It’s on his phone.”

“Shut up!” Harold said.

Calvin pulled Harold to his feet and patted him down. He took the phone and flipped through it to bring up the video. Calvin’s face grew stone-cold angry as he watched.

I turned away at the sound of angry words, a horrible crunch, then rock on flesh and terrible silence.